Past perfect
by viktriap
Summary: It's a so called sequel to my other stories. John struggles to get back to normal life, but it's becoming harder when he meets somebody he used to know in his former life.
1. Default Chapter

Author's note: I don't have much to say this time. Only this: Thousands of thank yous for the reviews!

This chapter might seem plotless (is there a word like this?)but it might be important later. And I wanted to make a try at something lighter!

Read and enjoy! And don't forget: reviews are like oxygen for me!

Chapter 1.

_The first real day at home! _This was John's first thought when he woke up and looked at the alarm-clock, that of course didn't ring. He didn't have to go anywhere.

He was released yesterday late in the afternoon and though he wouldn't have admitted it, the short way home exhausted him beyond everything. He pretended to be fit – or at least tried to – as long as Sam and Bailey were around. However he guessed, he couldn't fool neither of them. When they left at last, he practically collapsed into his bed and slept in, he didn't even change clothes.

It was absolutely annoying how weak he was. He spent five weeks in the hospital, for goodness sake! He should be more than healthy after all the treatment he got! But, as he was told endless times: he was lucky. He almost died and almost lost his leg – he didn't even want to think about _that _part! The fact that he still used crutches told a lot: not only bones broke but also muscles and tendons were damaged in his leg. Yes, he knew the facts, but still… he was fed up with being a "patient".

So, he worked incredibly hard during his PT meetings, and the therapist declared that his progress was one of the bests she has ever experienced. John found it slow, all the same. He didn't know what he would have done, if he had to sit in a wheelchair for about two months as the therapist predicted.

He sat up and slowly put his legs on the ground and took the crutches that he hated with a passion, but couldn't live without them at the moment. He walked – or in his opinion rather crawled along – to the bathroom. Undressing was another special procedure, but he managed it quickly by now. All in all, he managed to get a shower in 36 minutes which was a new record – for the first time when he tried it alone it took more than one and a half hours.

He got dressed and started to think about a way to acquire some food – the five past weeks couldn't use much to the ones in the fridge, they might be in quite a special consistency – when he heard the doorbell. The ten-seconds walk to the door took almost four minutes. _I hope, that somebody won't make up the mind…_

In the door there was Grace with too packed paper-bags.

"I hope I didn't wake you up!" she said cheerfully, and he stepped out of the way to let her in.

"No, I've been up for about an hour."

"Okay! I brought some supply for you. I guessed you could need a shopping…"

"Although I haven't visited the kitchen yet, I suppose you are right."

"Of course, I'm right!" then he stormed to the kitchen and by the time John joined him she was packing out quickly.

"You really shouldn't have bothered… I could have ordered…"

"Don't argue with me, okay?"

"Yes, m'am…" You simply didn't mess up with _that look._ For this answer he got another cross look, but then Grace smiled and changed the subject.

"How was your first night at home?"

"I slept like a baby."

"I can imagine how tiring it was to come home!"

"No, not really…" he objected with not much conviction.

"Oh, of course… Shall I make breakfast for you?"

"No, thank you. I'll manage it alone…"

"All right, but don't strain yourself!" she warned him strictly.

"I know all the orders!"

"George's coming to pick you up at 3 p.m."

"He really doesn't have to…"

"How do you want to go to the hospital?" she cut him off easily.

"I could take a taxi…"

"Don't be stupid, John!" she talked as if she were speaking to an obnoxious boy. "As long as we are in town there always will be somebody to take you."

"I don't want to be a burden…" he mumbled.

"You are not one! And don't talk nonsense, I don't want to hear this again, okay?"

John just nodded. He felt a little bit awkward. To be honest in the last few weeks he felt so, almost all the time. Firstly, he needed a lot of help, and it wasn't something he liked. Secondly, there was all this attention… In the hospital he had visitors every day, even farther workmates dropped by time to time. And then there were _those _people. Some relatives of Jack's former victims came to visit him… and they thanked him for capturing Jack.

Honestly, he didn't know what to say to them, so he just smiled warily and told that it was his job, and other "creative" lies. Because he couldn't tell the truth. How would it sound_: I didn't want to capture that serial killer, I just wanted to survive! Because I didn't want to die in that fucking cellar! _

And above all these, Bailey showed him the articles – and after that he understood why some of the nurses behaved so strange! – and told that he probably would get some kind of badge of honour or what. He was stunned about this and to tell the truth rather embarrassed. He didn't deserve all this attention… what for? And he couldn't handle it at all.

"I have to go now! Job is waiting!" Grace announced after she had packed full his fridge and pantry. John guessed he's never had so much food in his kitchen.

"Thank you for everything."

"You don't have to thank all the time, you know! But you're welcomed anyway!" she smiled.

John saw Grace to the door, where she warned him again about being careful and take it easy and then vanished.

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After this, days followed the same routine: Grace even cooked for him every second day and when he mentioned that he hasn't eaten so much home-made food since he was a child, she just answered that it's quite a problem and that he has to gain his weight back.

Next Saturday – that was one of the few days when he didn't need to visit the hospital – his phone rang. It was Sam.

"We have a case in Chicago and have to leave in an hour…" she trailed of as if she had made up her mind about something.

"Is something wrong?"

"No, I just don't want to bother you… but… could Chloe maybe stay with you as long as I'm out of town?"

"Of course she can! And where's the bothering?"

"Isn't this enough? You are not up to …"

"Oh, let it, Sam! I'm definitely up to it, I'm not an invalid…" then he shut up, because he realized actually, how close he was to it.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. She isn't a baby, Sam. I can handle it."

Sam sighed and John could tell that she wasn't convinced totally, though she didn't have many choices at the moment.

"Just bring her over." He added and at last Sam agreed… probably because she had no time to look for a proper babysitter.

John became surprisingly excited about the chance to have a guest. Or … it wasn't surprising at all… though he wasn't left alone – quite the opposite happened, to be honest! – he couldn't tell that he had a lot of company either. The others visited him often but they never stayed long, they all had their own lifes, a job and everything else, and they always told that they didn't want to tire him too much. Now he at least will be able to talk to somebody… or knowing Chloe rather listen to!

Twenty minutes later they arrived and he was already waiting for them at the door.

"I have to run!" told Sam immediately. "Chloe, behave yourself and don't strain John! I'll try to come home as soon as possible, but in case I can't fly home tomorrow" she turned to John "her school staff is in the backpack as well."

"We will manage, don't worry!"

"Bye, Mum!" Chloe intervened quickly, and kissed her mother good-bye.

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They just finished dinner which Chloe helped a lot to prepare. She knew that John was an absolute disaster in the kitchen and with those crutches he was even worse.

This was the first time she could really examine John's condition. She was allowed to visit him in the hospital a few times but she could stay only for minutes. What she saw now, really scared her. Almost two months went by since John was injured but he still looked very ill and not only because of the crutches. He was still rather pale and Chloe could see the fading signs of bruises on his face… and he was thin. Not as if he had been fat before or something but his shirt visibly hang loosely on him.

"I'll do the dishes!" she volunteered which, she knew, would have stunned her mother to no end.

"We don't have to do it right now. Just let it be!" John said casually and this was another thing that would have stunned Samantha Walters who liked order. But her daughter agreed promptly.

"What would you like to do this evening?" John asked next.

"Playing cards!" she answered immediately.

And in the next two hours they played poker. John started to teach her the game before he was injured and now Chloe was keen to finish what they had begun. This was their secret as Chloe was sure that her mother wouldn't be delighted about the idea.

"If you grin like this nobody would eat your bluff!" John warned her for the twentieth time, and she tried to make her face more serious instantly.

They played in matches and Chloe already had a good pile of them, however she suspected that John let her win on many occasions.

"Where did you learn this?" she asked when they had a short pause.

"I learned it when I was a child."

"Your parents let you know about things like this?" she asked surprised.

"They didn't necessary know about it… but I don't think they would have mind."

Chloe knew that John didn't like to speak about his parents, but tonight it seemed he was in a talkative mood.

"I had a good friend that time and we learned the tricks together."

"Tricks?" she became excited immediately. She was fond of tricks.

"Yes… If you don't tell anybody, I'll show you one." He said in a conspiratory tone.

"I promise."

John shuffled the cards so fast that Chloe couldn't follow it with her eyes, dealt and then showed his cards: two fours, a three, a nine and a king.

"Did you see them?" when Chloe nodded he continued. "I change in two." He put down two cards and pulled out new ones form the top of the pack. He showed them again: there were three kings now, with the four-pair.

"Wow! How did you do this? You have to teach me!"

"I don't think your mother would appreciate if I thought you how to cheat in cards" then he smiled. "Maybe another time. It's quite late…"

"But I'm not tired yet!"

"Good for you!" John laughed, but Chloe recognized that he seemed quite worn out, indeed and remembered that John was convalescing at the moment.

"Okay, I understand. I'll go to the bathroom, then!"

"There are clean towels in the cupboard." John shouted after her.

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When she came back into the room, John was trying to open the couch for her.

"I'll do it!" she said as she realized that John couldn't do it or at least not easily.

John blushed a little bit but sat down without a word. A few minutes later she was in bed and dared to ask the question that has been bugging her for a while.

"Mum said that it was… you know… the Bad Man who hurt you…"

John was on his way out, but now he turned.

"Yes, it was him."

"He wanted to… kill you? Like he had killed… my dad?"

John limped back to the couch and sat down.

"What did your mother tell you?" he asked after a short pause.

"Not much. She thinks I'm too little to understand."

"And you are not?"

She shrugged. She felt annoyed by it that she was always left out. She wasn't a baby anymore and she knew the risks her mother took in her job. John seemed to think about her question a bit and then said.

"Yes, he did."

"And what…" she hesitated for a moment, because adults usually silenced children when they asked things like these. "…what did he do to you?"

"He ran me over with his car and took me to his house and wanted to wait until I die."

Chloe paled a little bit but she was glad that John didn't lie, though she was sure that this was a reduced version of the happenings.

"Weren't you scared?"

She saw something flickering in his eyes but it disappeared too quickly and she couldn't make out what it was.

"I was…. I think everybody is afraid of dieing."

"I'm glad you didn't die…"

"You can then imagine how glad _I _am!" he smiled and with that the sinister mood was almost over. "But now: up to sleep!"

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The next day when Chloe woke up she heard noises from the kitchen and found John there working on something that reminded her of scrambled eggs… very remotely.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Breakfast." Answered John looking at her over his shoulder. He was balancing with the crutches and tried to do the cooking with one hand.

"And you want to eat this?" she asked incredulously when she looked closer at the strange formed eggs.

John grinned at her.

"No, actually I made it for you!"

Chloe made a face that made John laugh even more.

"What do you think about pancakes?" he asked after a few moments.

Chloe looked at him suspiciously.

"You know how to make pancakes?"

"No way! There's a pancake-bar at the corner, we could go down there."

Chloe looked at the eggs and then at John with his crutches.

"Can you walk that long?"

"Hey, I'm the one to look after you and not the other way around! And yes, I can. I've been out of the flat a few times, you know!"

Chloe smiled: "All right then, I love pancakes!"

So, they dressed up and walked to the pancake bar. That really wasn't far away, but it still took them about twenty minutes. Chloe walked as slowly as she could, because she was worried about John.

In the bar a young woman welcomed them, who – in Chloe's opinion – behaved quite strangely. She smiled all the time and when she brought out the pancakes she bent down so deeply that she could have kissed the table. When she left, Chloe had to ask:

"Why did she do this?"

"What do you mean?"

"She almost sat in your lap!"

"Oh, that…" she could have sworn that John blushed to his ears. "She…you know… she wanted to make me...hmm… interested in her…"

"You mean she would like to be your girlfriend?"

"You can say so, yes."

"And?"

"And what?"

"Do you want her as a girlfriend?"

"No."

"Why?"

"I don't know her, and she's a little bit bouncy, don't you think so?"

"Absolutely. And she has too much make-up!"

"I see you're an expert…"

"Do you have a girlfriend, by the way?" she asked casually.

"By the way? Do you often ask questions like this?"

"No, just from you." She grinned.

"Great… No, I don't have a girlfriend."

"Why?"

"Don't know. Maybe I haven't find the right one until now. And, by the way" he imitated the girl's question "what about you? Do you have a boy at school who you like?"

"Boys are stupid!" she declared.

"So? Then I guess I belong to the stupid part of the world…"

"No, you don't. You belong to the normal ones. And so does Bailey… and George."

"Good to hear."

"You know that Mum and Bailey are together, don't you?" she changed the subject.

"Yes, I do."

"I'm glad about it. He is nice and he makes Mum happy."

"You are a clever girl, you know."

She just shrugged.

"You don't need too much brain to see the obvious. I knew they belonged together…"

John laughed out loud, but when Chloe asked him what was so funny he didn't tell it. _Adults are always strange! Even the normal ones…_

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They spent the time until noon in the park nearby and fed the pigeons, counted the dogs and talked to a nice old lady who congratulated John to his clever and beautiful daughter (this was something they laughed a lot about!). In the afternoon they watched Alice in Wonderland – the Disney-film – and it was even more enjoyable because John made funny comments all the time. Sam called later and told that she can come only on Monday evening but for the first time Chloe didn't mind too much that her mum was away, as she really enjoyed her time with John. And she didn't argue when John suggested her to go to bed at nine and she slept in quickly.

Chloe startled awake. What was it? Some noise woke her, she was sure, but it must have been loud, because she was hard to waken. She sat up and listened. The flat wasn't big and the bedroom where John slept was only a few steps away. And Chloe suddenly was sure that the sound came from that room.

She got out of the bed and stepped to the closed door. She heard nothing special but had a bad feeling in her stomach… so she knocked.

"John?" she called when there was no answer and cautiously opened the door.

The small night-lamp was turned on, so she could see. John was sitting on the floor which was quite odd. On second glance Chloe realized how terrible he looked like. She has never seen anybody so pale, his face was almost grey.

"John…?" she whispered again. He obviously just now realized that Chloe came into the room.

"I'm okay…" he said quickly but through gritted teeth.

"Are you sure? What happened?"

"I fell…" and he winked at the bed.

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It surprised him when he realized that he wasn't alone anymore. Chloe looked at him with a scared look, and just from this, he could imagine how he must have been looked like. Yes, he fell from the bed after he had one of his usual dreams. These dreams were often quite "active". There were some nights when he found himself somewhere else in the flat when he woke up. It wasn't a serious problem, really, but with his healing leg, this time it was more than painful.

He wasn't sure whether he could answer Chloe, but he managed.

"I'm okay…" it was all he could say before the pain exploded in his leg again. _This is what happens if you want to go for a walk without your damned crutches._

"What happened?" Chloe asked next and he just winked at the bed.

"I fell…" he couldn't tell a twelve-year old that he had a nightmare about his father breaking his leg…however the dream just suited his momentary situation. _Oh, not perfectly… it was the other leg that time. _Shit, he should concentrate on getting up and calm the girl instead of grooming over the past. So he forced out a smile – didn't know how honest it seemed, though – and said:

"I didn't want to wake you up, sorry."

Chloe looked at him with an are-you-stupid?-look.

"Did you hurt your leg?" she asked instead of calling him stupid in words.

"Yes." There was no use in denying it, twelve-year-olds could see better than anybody else. "Just a few minutes and it will be better." He wasn't so sure about that one, but better be optimistic. The doctors told him that he should be careful: his knee was practically shattered and at the moment his leg was screwed together – and only the winds held it together – or at least so he felt sometimes.

"All right" Chloe seemed to be a little bit skeptical, and then sat down next to him.

"You should go back to sleep." He made a weak attempt, but he was quite sure that she won't obey. The girl was too much her mother's daughter.

"Shouldn't we call somebody?" she asked instead.

"Who?"

"Actually I thought about an ambulance. You look like hell."

"Thank you very much."

"I'm serious."

"Me too."

And actually, he felt a little bit better and decided that it was time – at least – climb back into the bed. He grabbed the edge of the cupboard and pulled himself up. The next moment he was lying in the bed, wheezing a little bit but it wasn't _that _bad. However, Chloe still watched him with worried eyes.

"Are you sure that you're okay?" she asked.

"Yes. Would you do me a favor?"

"Of course."

"In the bathroom, in the cupboard above the mirror, there is a small box of painkillers. Could you bring me one pill… and a glass of water."

Chloe was already out of the room and one moment later she was back with the medicine.

"Go back to sleep!" he told again.

"I would rather sleep here." She declared.

"What are you talking about?"

"I won't let you sleep alone." Her face was implacable and John would have laughed about it but he was afraid that Chloe would misunderstand. She went out and came back with her pillow and blanket and jumped on the bed.

"I hope you don't move much in your sleep… Or should I take a second pill?" was the only comment John made. However he was an obstinate man – as Grace liked to point out – he still knew when to quit.

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	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2.

"Bailey Malone" he tried to ignore the ringing of the phone because he was working on the new budget's plans, but it just didn't want to stop.

"Good afternoon. I'm Detective Marsh, Atlanta PD, District 54." Told a deep voice on the other side of the line.

"How can I help you, detective?"

"Agent Grant asked me to call you…"

"Is something wrong with him?" cut him off Bailey worriedly. In the past weeks he became a little bit paranoid where John was concerned.

"No, not really" his outburst clearly surprised the detective. "He intervened during a mugging and…"

"A what?" Bailey couldn't believe his ears. John wasn't up to intervene during _anything,_ he still walked with the crutches after all.

"A mugging. He was waiting in the bus-stop and a woman was attacked near him. He stopped the man and called us, so we could fortunately capture the mugger. We've been looking for this particular man for months."

"I see. But what is with John… I mean agent Grant?"

"He is here at the station. He made his confession and then asked me to call you and ask whether somebody could pick him up here. This whole scuffle strained his leg, I guess, but he didn't want to go and let check himself."

"All right, I'll go and pick him up. I'll be there in half an hour."

"Thank you."

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"What should I have done! Let him kill that woman, or what?" John wasn't exactly shouting but he was quite loud and Sam saw that every head in the room turned in the two men's direction.

They just walked out of the elevator but clearly have been fighting for a long time. Bailey was visibly irritated… or rather furious if Sam wanted to be honest to herself.

"Calling the police obviously never occurred to you!" He was definitely louder than John.

Sam didn't know the details of course, but she was sure that Bailey's behavior would never change John's. Especially seeing that the younger man looked rather amused about the situation, than anything else. He didn't grin – that far he wouldn't dare to go when his boss was in such a temper! – but Sam could see the glints of a smile in his eyes.

"I can't believe that you could be so irresponsible!" Bailey went on with the dressing-down. "You could have hindered your recovery by weeks!"

"Yes, I know!" John answered in a bored tone, which caused Bailey to sigh despondently.

"I see, I can't knock any sense in your head!"

"I'm glad you realized… Could I sit down now?" John asked, and with his crutches he maneuvered to a seat. He flopped down and stretched out his right leg.

Sam guessed it was time to intervene and so detain further argument.

"Could you please explain what happened?" she asked calmly.

"Nothing. I just worked out the duties of a citizen" John declared, looking at Bailey defiantly.

"Oh, yes! He had a fight with a mugger on the street!" Bailey burst out.

"It wasn't a fight really! He was a turkey! I knocked him out easily..."

Bailey frowned but before he could speak up again Sam cut in.

"Where did this happen?"

"In the bus-stop, just in front of the hospital."

In the last week John achieved that they gave up taking him to his PT sessions. He was quite stubborn about it and at last Grace agreed to let him go on his own. She probably couldn't bear his whining anymore. Sam guessed, however, that she could make up her mind, seeing as how John could find trouble on the fifth day.

"This guy attacked a woman just under my nose… By the way, I realized that these crutches are quite useful in combat." And now he really grinned.

Sam was glad to see this. She knew that the slow progress in his condition and the fact that he couldn't work and most of his time he had to spend amongst four walls really upset him. She also guessed that his nightmares became more frequent after his 'incident' with Jack. She wanted to speak about it with him, but John brushed her off every time. Though she couldn't miss the dark circles under his eyes which occurred quite often , nor the quiet periods he had when she visited him. She also suspected that something had happened during Chloe's sleepover because her daughter watched John with concerned eyes every time they met. Chloe hasn't spoken about it though – she obviously didn't want to lose John's trust in her.

"You shouldn't be so strict to him, you know." Sam said to Bailey when they were alone in his office. He just sighed.

"yes, I know. But I still think that he could have chosen a less dangerous solution."

"No, he couldn't have" Sam smiled. "In that case, it wouldn't have been John. And by the way, I guess you would have done the same…"

Bailey smiled back at last.

"You're probably right."

"Yes, probably." She leant forward and kissed him on the cheek.

"Why did I get this for?" he asked smiling.

"You are cute when you act fatherly"

"Did I do it?"

"Definitely. Look" she continued more seriously. "you can't protect him like this. If you try, you will push him away. He won't tolerate it too long. John is a cop, it's his essence, he won't sit at the sidelines when somebody is hurt. And I've learned something about him: he maniacly protects his independence."

"Which means?"

"Which means that you can't babysit him!"

"But I don't want him to get hurt even more!"

"As I see it he managed quite well today…"

"I know. But it could have turned out differently."

"I know you feel responsible for what had happened to him. But it wasn't your fault…"

"Yes, I know. But I still… I can't change how I feel."

"Then… just don't show it in front of him." She said simply.

"I'll go and tell him that he did well" Bailey concluded after a short hesitation.

"Good idea!" Sam smiled and gave him another kiss, this time on his lips and much more passionately.

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Eileen Fletcher was lying in her hospital bed and staring at the ceiling. She was still shocked after the happenings in the morning. If that young man weren't there then that mugger would stabbed her… or even worse. She has always been scared of being raped and that man looked just like a rapist. And the detective told her that this particular mugger had already killed once.

So she was still nervous.

When the man attacked her she knew that she was on her own, even if there were some by-passers around. She lived in this big city long enough to know that people never intervened. So she was rather surprised that young man came to her help. Especially that he had crutches and looked as if he himself needed help. Eileen saw him but the mugger didn't. He was too occupied with her to register anything else. She was so confused and scared that she didn't really remembered what happened after that. All she knew was, that the men wrestled and she found herself on the ground. That her savior asked her if she was all right. She knew that she nodded and probably told something, but then everything was a blur and her head cleared only in the ambulance.

She didn't even thank the young man. She didn't even remember how looked like, actually. But, no… she remembered something: his eyes, blue eyes … and somehow familiar.

She sat up straight in the bed, and the words escaped her mouth involuntary, although she never cursed: "Oh, shit!"

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Next day Eileen Fletcher visited the police department and Detective Marsh.

"I'm glad you're O.K." The detective who seemed to be a nice man welcomed her.

"Yes, it was nothing, really. I was just scared."

"I can understand. It must have been quite traumatic for you! But how can I help you?"

"You know, in the hospital I realized that I couldn't even thank that young man that he saved me. I was wondering if you could tell me where I can find him.."

"Oh, I see. Actually, yes, I can. He's an FBI agent, and works at the Violent Crime Task Force of the FBI, here in Atlanta. I guess you can find him through his job, because I can't give out his address."

"I see. But can you tell me his name?"

"Oh, sorry! His name is Grant…" He looked in the files. "Yes, John Grant."

"Grant?" she asked back surprised, because she really expected an other name. _I still might be wrong…_

"Yes." The man looked at her inquiringly. "Is something wrong?"

"No, no… I'm just… still a little bit shaken."

"Understandable." But he still seemed suspicious.

"I'd rather go. Thank you for your help, Detective Marsh."

"You're welcome…"

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She didn't want to delay the meeting, so she took a taxi and went to the FBI Headquarters immediately. If she is wrong she simply thanks him for saving her. If she's right… well then, she would decide what to do later. She would probably just apologize…

She walked inside the huge building uneasily. Eileen didn't even know if they would let her in.

In the hall there was a reception desk and a metal-detector.

"Can I help you, M'am?" the man behind the desk asked immediately.

"I'm looking for an Agent Grant… I don't know if he's in at all…"

"Which department is he at?"

She tried to remember what detective Marsh mentioned.

"Hmm.. some kind of violent crime department or what…"

"The VCTF, maybe?"

"I think so, yes."

"One moment. Let's see…" he pushed some buttons on his computer. "He's on sick leave. Would you like to talk to somebody from the deparment?"

"Yes… if it's possible."

"Of course." He took the phone. "There's a visitor for Agent Grant." Pause. "Okay, thank you…"

He put down the receiver and turned back to Eileen.

"Somebody would come down in a few minutes. You can sit down until then over there." He waved at the few chairs at the left wall.

"Thank you." She walked over and sat down. _Why was she so nervous?_

A few minutes later a pretty, blonde woman appeared, talked a few words with the agent behind the desk and then walked to her.

"Good morning! I'm Agent Waters, a workmate of Agent Grant."

"Eileen Fletcher. I'm the woman he saved yesterday. I don't know whether you know about it…"

"Yes, I do." Agent Waters answered with a smile.

"I hoped that I could thank him for helping me." She explained.

"I see. He is not here at the moment, but he drops by every day" she added. "I'll call him and ask what time he would come today."

She went a little further and talked on her cell phone, then came back.

"He said, he would be here in an hour. You could come back, I'll ask Agent Phillips" here she waved to the man at the desk "to prepare a visitor's card for you, this way you can come up to us."

"Thank you very much."

"I'll see you then in an hour. We are on the 5th floor.

They shook hands and Eileen decided to go for a walk and clear his mind.

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An hour later she was in the elevator, nervously wringing her hands. _What did I thought with coming here? _The doors opened and she stepped in a strange and busy world. The first person she glanced was Agent Waters who walked to her instantly.

"Hi! Just come with me, he's over there!"

They walked to the farther end of the huge office, and she found herself face to face with the man who saved her the day before. He was sitting on the edge of a desk talking good-naturedly with a woman who had dark complexion and long, curly hair. They both looked up at them and stopped talking. The smile somehow faded from Agent Grant's face. Yes, it was really him.. _And I suppose he remembers me, as well…_

"You have a visitor, John." Agent Waters said.

"I guess you remember me…" Eileen said in an anxious tone.

"Yes. Do you feel better?" His expression was unreadable.

"I didn't mean our meeting yesterday…" She has never felt so uncomfortable in her life. When she said the words something flickered in the man's eyes but it vanished just as quickly.

"Yes, I know. Miss Warren."

The two women who were still standing next to them looked between them surprised.

"I thought you didn't recognize me" John said after a short silence.

"I didn't. Not instantly anyway, just in the hospital" she admitted. "But I thought I was wrong when I heard your name…"

"I changed my name." He said quietly, his eyes never leaving hers. After a few seconds she couldn't bear his stare and looked away. Just in time to see that the curly haired woman looked at John with wide, almost shocked eyes. _Great, I guess she didn't know…._

"I just wanted to thank you and… I wanted to apologize…"

"You don't have to."

"I think I have. I was unfair and cruel, however I should have known better." She looked in his eyes again. She expected them to be cold, but they weren't. They were rather sympathetic. "I shouldn't have gone away without a word…"

"I understand why you did it. I understood it even back then. I told you that you couldn't do anything."

"But…"

"Please, don't." He smiled and Eileen had to smile back. "Can I invite you for a coffee, or something?" he asked then. "We could talk…"

"Okay, I guess" she was still uneasy but relieved all the same. He took the crutches and turned to his workmates.

"I'll probably come back later."

They both looked at him stunned but didn't ask anything, however Eileen felt their stare during the whole way to the elevator.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Who do you think was she?" asked Grace when the woman and John disappeared, but she just shrugged.

"The woman he saved yesterday."

"But they obviously used to know eachother…"

"Yes, but I don't know more than you."

"I think you do. What was this, with changing his name?"

"It happened a long time ago…" Sam didn't know if she could tell it or not. If John had wanted to tell then Grace probably would know. "He didn't have a good relationship with his father." She said at last.

"I think there's more…" but Grace didn't ask further. "I still would like to know who this woman was… an old flame, maybe?"

"I don't think so. She is too old for that. About 45 or older… And John was very young when he changed his name…"

But Sam was also curious about her identity and decided to find it out sooner or later.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's note: I'd like to say that there are disturbing themes in this chapter. It might be worht on 'R' but I'm not so sure about. Seeing the other Profiler stories I don't think it's _that bad! _Read and enjoy! And of course: please review - I really would like to know what you think about this one...

Chapter 3.

John didn't come back that day and in the evening Sam decided to call him.

"Hey, it's me."

"Hi."

"You didn't come back to the office and I…"

"And you wanted to know if I got into trouble." He cut in but he didn't sound upset or angry.

"No…" she knew it wasn't too convincing.

"I'm okay, Sam. We just chatted and it got late. I came home instead."

"By the way, who was that woman?"

"I see why you called me then!" he said and Sam knew that he was smiling. "She was my teacher at high school."

"Really? I bet she could tell a lot about your things!"

"She didn't teach me _that _long. Sorry, but my dinner is burning down…"

"Don't tell me, you cooked!"

"I'm improving!" he laughed. "Actually, I warm up what Grace brought me yesterday."

"Good appetite then!"

"Thanks. See you tomorrow!"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

For the next few days Sam completely forgot John's strange visitor. They had a new case and life went on. On a Thursday evening she went to the library to make some studies about old Catholic rituals as one of their murder seemed to be obsessed with religion. She was reading a thick book at one of the desks when from the corner of the eyes she glimpsed a familiar person. She looked up to watch her closer. Yes, it was Mrs. Fletcher, indeed.

She could hardly see after two long hours of reading, so she decided to greet her.

"Mrs. Fletcher?" The middle aged woman turned back.

"Agent Waters, right?"

"Yes. How are you doing?"

"I'm all right. However, I'm still a little shaky. I guess I'm too old for such excitements…" she smiled, and Sam knew that she would like this woman.

"I'm sure it would go away soon. I'm glad you are okay, though." She wanted to turn back to her desk, but the woman stopped her.

"Excuse me, but… would you mind joining me for a coffee or a drink, maybe?"

First, Sam wanted to say no, because she should read a lot more today. But then she saw something in the woman's eyes… worry? Or rather need… the need to talk about something.

"Why not? I was finished anyway." She answered instead and Mrs. Fletcher seemed somehow relieved.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"You are a good friend of John, aren't you?" Mrs. Fletcher asked after they had been seated and ordered two cappuccinos.

"Yes, I guess."

"How long have you known him?"

"Two years."

"Then you can maybe tell me… it might sound stupid, but… how is he doing?"

"What do you mean?" Sam asked a little bit surprised. "You met him a few days ago…"

"Yes, but he didn't talk much about himself. He asked everything about me… what happened since we last met, and so on… What I'd like to know… what I _need _to know is: Is he happy?"

She probably read something in Sam's eyes, because she started to explain herself.

"I don't want to dig in his private life…I just… I taught him in high school and… well, that time… he had a lot of problems… and I…"

"I think I know what you're talking about. His father, right?" Sam saw that Mrs. Fletcher had trouble to say what she wanted so she tried to make it easier for her.

"He talked about it?" she asked surprised.

"A little bit."

"I sometimes wondered what had happened to him. I would have never guessed that he would be an FBI agent… however now it seems almost natural for him… He was a nice boy and I always wanted him to be happy…

"I think he is." Sam said. She knew that John had his problems, even demons maybe, but he loved his job, he had friends and Sam guessed if somebody had asked him if he were happy or not he would have definitely answered with a yes.

"It's good. I'm glad… I was afraid that I made a fatal mistake…" She looked up and Sam saw pain in her eyes, and something else… shame, maybe? "Would you listen to an ageing teacher's confession?"

"Do you think I'm the proper…" She didn't let Sam finish the question.

"I think you are. You know him… and it's easier to speak with somebody who I don't really know."

Sam thought about it for a moment and then nodded.

"Thank you." For a second she looked at her hands as if she were thinking about where to start. "I was 35 when I decided that I needed a change. I had taught at a private school in Chicago and I had a dying relationship with one of my workmates. I wanted to get out, I wanted challenge. I had on old friend in Boston, Dave Marker. His school was looking for a History teacher and I applied. I had never taught at a state-school before and I heard a lot of horror-stories about these outskirts-institutes but I was still excited when I started my work there…

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_Eileen was nervous and excited. She waited a few seconds in front of the classroom door. Dave smiled at her encouragingly. _

"_Are you ready?"_

"_Yes."_

_He opened the door and they stepped inside. Twenty-six heads turned in their direction and the children stopped talking… more or less._

"_Good morning, everybody!" Dave said loudly throwing a strict look at those who were still chatting. "I'd like to introduce your new World History teacher. Behave yourself and please don't scare her away on the first day!"_

_And with that he left her alone._

"_Well, then… My name is Eileen Warren and as Mr. Marker told I'm going to teach World History. First, I'd like you to introduce yourself in a few words. Who would like to start?"_

_The children looked at each-other but nobody volunteered. _

"_All right, then let's start here in the first row." She pointed at the girl sitting at the desk on the right side. In the tenth minute of the lesson she found out that these children weren't really different of those who she has taught so far and she felt a lot more relaxed. They just finished the introducing when the door burst open and a haggard-looking boy stormed inside obviously out of breath. When he was inside he stopped. _

"_I'm sorry for being late Miss…"_

"_Warren. And who are you?"_

"_John O'Doyle, Miss."_

"_I hope being late isn't your habit."_

"_No, Miss."_

"_Then sit down!"_

_The boy took place in the second row. The girl sitting next to him looked at him questioningly and slightly worried but he only shook his head. After the short interruption everything went well, they talked about the English bourgeois revolution and the lesson was over in no time. _

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

_In the afternoon Eileen was invited to the principal's office. In the waiting room she saw the boy – what is his name, John? – sitting on a chair. _

_The principal was a bolding, very strict man close to retirement. Eileen found him frightening in a way._

"_Miss Warren, thank you for coming. Sit down!" His words always sounded like commands to Eileen's ears. _

"_Thank you, Mr. Harding."_

"_I was glad to hear that you accepted the task, arranging our library, as well."_

"_It would be a pleasure. I was librarian in my old school and I liked it very much."_

"_Great." His tone gave away that he found it anything but great. "I'll give a helping hand for you. Maybe you have seen Mr. O'Doyle waiting out there. He gets a detention for being late three times a week. I thought helping you would be useful. That's all. Tell him when you want to start."_

_With that he obviously finished the conservation as he went back to the pack of files on his desk._

_So Eileen went out to the boy._

"_I hear we will work together on constructing a beautiful and well-organized library for this school."_

_The boy jumped up when seeing her._

"_Yes, Miss."_

"_I'd like to start tomorrow, if it's okay for you."_

"_Of course, Miss. I have training until 4 p.m."_

"_Half past four, then. See you tomorrow!"_

"_Good bye, Miss Warren…"_

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

_The library was actually an unused classroom. The shelves were in pieces and the books in boxes. The school got them from a foundation. John turned up exactly at 4:15 when Eileen was standing in the middle of the room looking over the situation. _

"_Good afternoon, Miss Warren."_

"_Hi! Just drop down your backpack." She sighed. "I think we will have a lot of work with this."_

_John looked around._

"_I think we will need some tools. I'll go and ask Mr. Rayne for them." Mr. Rayne was the warden of the school. He rushed out and ten minutes later was back with a foot-locker._

"_Do you think, you can fix these shelves?"_

"_They don't look too complicated."_

_They worked on the shelves for three days, or more precisely three afternoons and during that Eileen got to like John. He was a quiet boy and very polite, especially for a fifteen-year-old. She found him also very disciplined. He worked hard here in the library. She found out that he belonged to the best students and he was in the football team and in the box-team of the school. She guessed that he was the girl's favorite because he was good-looking as well. Eileen could imagine that with his dark hair and blue eyes he will break a few hearts. Despite all of these he was shy which somehow surprised Eileen. Till now she found that boys like him were usually highly over-confident._

_A week later they started to pack out the books and however she suggested John that he could find other afternoon-activity as his detention was over, he still was there almost every day. _

_The incident that changed everything happened on a Thursday. John was packing out books and Eileen went to make some coffee for herself. She slowly walked back to the corner where the boy worked, the hot mug in her left hand when she almost fell over a box that was casually dropped on the ground. She tried to save her coffee but in vain - it fell and the hot liquid spread over John's back. He jumped and to escape from the burning sensation instinctively slipped out of his jumper. _

"_I'm so sorry, aren't you…" then she trailed of in mid-sentence. "What happened to you?"_

_John wasn't wearing anything under the jumper and there was a huge bruise on his torso, covering the left side of his ribcage. The boy froze and covered himself quickly with the jumper – if he hadn't done this, Eileen might have believed his fast explanation that came after._

"_I… got it during the training a few days ago."_

_She watched him suspiciously and John looked down on his shoes. _

"_It looks nasty." She said after a while. "Can I have a look at it?"_

_John hesitated._

"_It's really nothing."_

"_I still would like to have a closer look."_

_He reluctantly let down the piece of clothes. It looked really bad, it was twice the size of Eileen's palm. _

"_Did somebody see it?"_

"_It's really nothing." He repeated._

_When she looked closer, Eileen glimpsed other strange marks. There was a fading bruise under the collarbone and a scar on his stomach and on his left upper-arm other blue spots that definitely looked like the marks of fingers. Fingers that roughly gripped the boy's arm._

"_Who did this to you, John?" She asked, but John suddenly pulled away and put on the jumper._

"_Nobody. It happened during the training…. I have to go now."_

_He didn't wait for an answer but walked out of the library. _

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

"_I wanted to ask you about one of the students."_

_Dave and Eileen were sitting in a small pub that became their regular hangout in the last few weeks. _

"_Shoot it…"_

"_There's a boy in my class and I think he has problems at home."_

"_Who is it?" Was there suddenly cautiousness in his eyes? Eileen wondered._

"_John O'Doyle."_

_She couldn't help it, in the last few days she had to think about the boy all the time. Everything she hadn't understood before made sense now. Why he was so shy and quiet, why he wore long-sleeved jumpers though it wasn't cold at all outside. Why he was so reserved and disciplined. She liked him and decided that he would help him somehow._

"_Uh…" Dave definitely looked as if somebody has just kicked him in the stomach._

"_Is something wrong?"_

"_Actually, yes. You should let it be…"_

"_Let it be?" She thought that Dave really cared about the children. "You didn't see it! His torso looks like a map…"_

"_I know." He talked quietly and for the first time she didn't just see the fear but also the pain in his eyes. "Everybody knows. But we pretend… that those are just sport-injuries or accidents and you should do the same."_

"_But why?" Her voice lost all of its former sharp tone. _

"_Do you know who his father is?"_

"_If he does this to his own son then I think he's a bastard…"_

"_Yes, probably. But he's also Patrick O'Doyle. The right-hand man and good friend of Brian Conelly."_

"_You mean…?" She remembered reading about him in the newspapers. He was accused of leading the Irish Mob on the East-Coast but managed to escape imprisoning somehow._

"_Yes. So you better do not intervene."_

"_I don't know if I can do it…"_

"_If you do anything, nobody will help you."_

"_Have you ever looked into John's eyes?"_

"_If you want to know: I haven't. At least not in the last few years! And yes, I often feel ashamed! But I have a family, Eileen. I try to help him in small ways, but I can't do more than let him rest in trainings when I see that he needs it." The bitterness almost fired from his voice._

"_Is he really that dangerous?" She somehow couldn't believe it. Of course, she didn't know anything about the Mob, only what she saw in movies but still… this was real life, not a film"_

"_Yes. It's said that he has killed at least twenty times in the last few years. And I mean personally. Not to mention those who he _got _killed…"_

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

_After their conservation with Dave, Eileen thought a lot about John and his father. A few days later, in the morning he glimpsed John in front of the school. He walked with a bad limp and when she went closer she saw that he had a nasty bruise on his left cheek._

"_What happened to you?" she asked._

_John tensed first but then answered without hesitation._

"_I had a box-match."_

_She knew that he lied however he did it with practice. He has already turned and started off the stairs. Eileen however grabbed his shoulder and stopped him. She regretted it though immediately when the boy gasped in pain. _

"_John, this can't go on… Something must be done."_

_He turned again but watched his shoes instead of her._

"_I injured during a box-match…" he repeated again._

"_Yes, I heard. And I don't believe it. John, what your father does, is wrong! I'll call the social service…"_

"_No!" He almost shouted and looked up at last. Eileen was taken aback when she saw tears in his eyes. The boy looked absolutely exhausted and this just strengthened her decision. "Please, don't…" he repeated then more silently._

"_I have no other choice. You are my responsibility" she said determined._

_John turned and practically ran away without another word. _

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

_The social worker was a man in his forties. Eileen talked to him earlier and found him very nice and very capable for the job. Even if John was everything but cooperative._

_At the moment they were sitting in the waiting room to Mr. Rogers' office. She brought John here – in school-time, so his father couldn't know about it – but John didn't say a word during the whole ride. He was now sitting on one of the plastic chairs staring at his shoes. _

"_Miss Warren?" called them the young secretary. "Mr. Rogers is waiting for you."_

"_Let's go John!" The boy followed her without looking up. Eileen was surprised that he didn't fell over in something._

"_It's nice to meet you in person, Miss Warren!" Mr. Rogers welcomed them. "John! Ms. Warren told a lot about you."_

"_I can imagine…" he mumbled under his nose._

_The adults pretended as if they didn't hear him._

"_Sit down." Mr. Rogers nodded at the chairs. "Would you mind if Ms. Warren stayed here while we are talking?"_

_John just shrugged which the social worker obviously took as a yes._

"_In this case, we can start. Well… your name is John O'Doyle, correct?"_

_John nodded. He clearly decided not to say a word._

"_You are fifteen?"_

_He nodded again._

"_And you live with your father?"_

_Another nod._

"_What is with your mother?"_

_This was a question he couldn't answer with a nod but his voice was barely audiable._

"_She died." _

"_When did this happen?"_

"_Last year."_

"_Would you tell me how it happened?"_

"_She had a car accident."_

"_I see. I'm really sorry."_

_He gave a cough after John hadn't react to his words at all._

"_I guess, you know why we are here, don't you?"_

"_I have no problems" he said determined._

"_Where did you get that bruise?" He pointed at the blackish bruise, still visible on the boy's face._

"_In a box-match. I'm in the school's box team."_

"_Really?"_

_The social worker glimpsed at the teacher who shook her head._

"_I have here some medical files." Continued Mr. Rogers. "In the last year you were in hospital… seven times. A broken leg – you fell with your bicycle. A broken arm – happened during a football match. Concussion – in a box-match. Three broken ribs and another concussion – you said you fell down the stairs. And so on, and so on… The year before you were treated in different hospitals… how many? …twelve times…"_

"_I'm clumsy."_

"_I don't think so. In your trainer's opinion you are a talented football player. Sportsmen usually aren't clumsy."_

"_Maybe I'm an exception…"_

"_Listen… what your father does to you is against the law. As I see it the evidence is convincing enough, so I'm going to start further investigation. I will have to talk to your father. I'll write the requisition and will ask Ms. Warren to give it to your father."_

"_This is a huge mistake…" John said quietly._

"_What do you mean? Is somebody else who beats you?"_

_John shook his head._

"_You don't understand…"_

"_Then explain me! I know that you might feel obligated to protect your father. You might even think that you deserve the punishments but nobody deserves to be treated like this… whatever you did."_

_John just shook his head again and after that he didn't tell another word. They waited until Mr. Rogers wrote the requisition and then left._

_The back-ride was no more chatty than the way to the social service._

"_I'll take you home" Eileen said after a long silent period. "Do you think that I find your father at home?"_

_John just shrugged again. It seemed that shrugging became the top of communication for him. _

"_O.K. If he isn't at home, I'll wait with you for him." She declared. But she didn't have to, as Mr. O'Doyle opened the door for them when they arrived._

"_I'm Eileen Warren, John's teacher." She introduced herself._

_O'Doyle was a tall man with a powerful aura and Eileen had to admit that he was handsome with his dark hair and grey eyes. Actually, John couldn't have deny that this man was his father, they were too similar._

"_Did my son do something wrong?" he asked._

"_No, John is one of our best students. Actually, I came to give you something." She gave the letter over and waited until O'Doyle opened and read it. Then he looked up: his face composed but Eileen saw anger in his eyes._

"_I see, Ms. Warren. I'll be there."_

_He waved his son inside and closed the door without another word. For a few moments Eileen just stood there staring at the closed door. Did she do the right thing? O'Doyle seemed everything but scared… but maybe she can show him that he isn't untouchable either._

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

_John didn't show up at school the next day and Eileen couldn't drive out of her head that something happened to him. By the end of the day she was full of worries so she decided to visit him_

_She has knocked on the door for a long time until at last she heard some moving from inside._

"_John? Are you there?" She called loudly._

"_Go away!" She heard from the other side of the door._

"_No, I'd like to talk to you! I won't go away unless you open this door!"_

_There was a long silence, but then she heard him rustling with the key. When the door opened, Eileen gasped. The teenager looked like hell. His left eye and cheek was dark blue almost black and swollen. His lip was cracked. His right hand was put in a home-made splint._

"_Oh, my god…" she whispered involuntary._

"_Are you satisfied?" John asked in a bitter voice._

"_I didn't want this to happen… I'm sorry… But.. this can be used against him… let's go to a hospital…"_

"_No" his voice was like an old man's now. "You still don't understand! Do you think he would do this if he were afraid of your social worker!?" The last sentence was shouted just like the rest of his words. "Do you really think that I don't talk because I want to protect him?! Do you think that I love him?! Just for your information: I hate him more than you could imagine! But you can't help me! Nobody can!"_

_When he finished his shouting he leant against the wall and started to cough. For a moment Eileen was taken aback by this outburst of pure emotion. When she recovered again she helped the boy into the living room, to a couch and made him sit down._

"_Are you injured anywhere else?" she asked quietly._

"_I'm fine."_

"_I still would like to take you to a doctor."_

"_I'm not allowed to leave the house. And I'm fine. It had been worse…"_

_The next moment he glimpsed at the clock with a concerned expression. _

"_You should go! He will arrive soon."_

"_Okay. But promise me that you call me if something happens! I think after the hearing…"_

"_There won't be one! He made it clear! Please go away!" He shouted again, almost hysterically which scared Eileen more than everything else. So she decided that it would be the best if she really left. _

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

_John came back to school on the third day after Eileen's visit, the signs of the beating still visible on him. It was the day before the hearing, but Eileen didn't have the opportunity to talk to the boy about it. Then the day came and in the afternoon she called Mr. Roger's office to hear the news. She knew something was wrong in the moment a sobbing secretary answered the phone._

"_Mr. R-rogers had an… accident yesterday. He's in critical condition…" the secretary explained and Eileen felt numb when she put down the receiver. She was just sitting there in her office for a long time that seemed to be hours – and it probably was true because when she glimpsed out of the window it was already dark outside. _

_She shivered. Was it really an accident? Or was Dave right? Maybe she shouldn't have intervened…_

_She quickly took on her coat and left the school building hurriedly. She couldn't repress the bad feeling in her stomach that told her: Mr. Rogers' car accident wasn't a coincidence. _

_The street was dark and empty… she knew it was empty! But still she looked behind herself again and again. _I'm like those women in the bad horror-movies!_ She thought and tried to laugh about her own stupidity but somehow she didn't manage._

_At last she arrived at her apartment and almost sighed in relief. What did she thought? There was no conspiracy! She opened the door…_

_The next moment somebody jumped at her from behind and she was pushed inside. She was swung around and found herself face to face with a man who looked like a real gangster. _Probably because he is one!_ Her thoughts were absolutely confused. She took a breath to scream but the man expected it and huge hand landed on her mouth choking every voice inside._

"_I have a message for you, lady! Don't mess up with Mr. O'Doyle…"_

_He tore her away from the wall and slapped her hard. Then pushed her into the corner. Eileen landed on the ground. She saw stars and her eyesight went blurry – partially because of the blow but partially because of the tears. She blinked a few times and when her sight cleared a little bit she found that the man was kneeling over him._

"_The boss said I could play with you for a while… and you are a curve!" he was breathing heavily and started to undo his trousers with one hand. With the other he pressed Eileen to the ground. She tried to move but the man was practically sitting on her by now. _

"_Yes… let's see…" he mumbled and tore her coat and blouse open._

_Eileen screamed out… but it deserved her another blow in the face. She almost blacked out…_

_Suddenly the door burst open._

_Eileen excepted one of the neighbors… or maybe the police, but none of those arrived. It was John._

"_Stop!" He might have shouted, but her ears were ringing and she heard the word as a whisper._

_The man looked back over his shoulder in surprise._

"_What the hell…" He trailed of when he glimpsed the gun in the hand of the boy. It was aimed at him. Where he could get it was beyond Eileen's imagination, but it didn't count at all._

_The attacker stood up and Eileen pulled herself away, in the farthest corner of the hall. She watched the scene almost mesmerized. _

"_Let her alone!"_

_John trembled as if he had high fever but amazingly enough his voice didn't waver and his hands were steady. _

_Eileen had only one though in her mindt: _we both will die_… She couldn't imagine that this giant would be scared away - gun or no - by this pale and shaking teenager. _

"_Your father won't like this…"_

"_I don't care! Go away!" and he armed the weapon. _

_The man took a step forward, but he looked definitely uneasy. John pulled the trigger. He aimed at the wall but the man could certainly feel the wind of the bullet. Eileen shuddered hearing the banging noise._

"_I think the police will be here soon…" John announced._

_Without another word the man stormed out of the flat and banged the door behind himself. John as if in slow motion sank to the ground the gun falling from his hands and for some long moments he was just sitting there as if he wasn't able to move anymore. Eileen was lying in the other corner almost in the same manner._

_Then John stood up and stepped to her._

"_Are you all right?"_

_She just shook her head. The boy bent down and tried to help her up but she pulled away._

"_Go… away…" Even she was surprised hearing how cold her voice sounded… And John looked at her as if she had kicked him or something…._

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

"I sent him away…" Mrs. Fletcher said, slightly sobbing. "I sent him away as if it was his fault… The next day I quit from school and left the town. I moved back to my parents for a while. I tried to forget everything, but … I never could forget his look… I don't know… he looked ashamed… and hurt… I think I hurt him more than his father ever could….

"I don't think he would say the same." Sam said and squeezed the older woman's hand.

"Thank you…You might be right" She wiped her eyes that were red from the tears. "I'm glad that he's happy. And I thank you that you listened to me. This was a story even my husband doesn't know about…"

"I hope you feel better now."

"Actually, yes. I didn't think this could happen, but somehow I feel… relieved."

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End file.
